


White Room

by Thirtyfiveowls



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: AU, American Road Trip, Christmas Fluff, Comfort Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirtyfiveowls/pseuds/Thirtyfiveowls
Summary: In the white room with black curtains near the stationBlackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings
Relationships: Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	White Room

**Author's Note:**

> Discord Secret Santa for physalis: a very atypical Gramander Christmas and a bit naughty.

There was a bottle of near-empty bourbon on the settee, and Newt woke up sore from the drunken sex last night.

A low, winter sun hung outside the motel window amidst the Arizona desert. He had been used to the damp and exquisite wizarding societies of Europe, which now seemed worlds away, unreal.

Their single motel room was entirely surrounded by a wild, untamed nature of the American West, hardly touched by men.

He got up wearing nothing on him but the bedsheets they had sex on, wrinkled from abuse, exposing parts of his naked body that looked obscene in the bathroom mirror. There was no way to tell the time.

Newt examined himself. Faint bruises scattered across his pale, freckled skin, and his neck, which he straightened his back to make longer, was littered with red marks. His full lips were still visibly swollen, and it gave him a seductive look without any attempt on his part.

In the morning he looked like a younger version of himself, red hair all soft and docile, eyes misty and lost. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror and looked for muggle pills. There was a quicker, easier way to cure hangovers, but they haven’t used any magic since they entered America.

He threw himself back into bed afterwards, the quiet solitude of the desert was draining his passion, and the bleak, white sunlight turned everything lifeless.

Newt stared at the vast plains outside the motel window and waited for his lover to return.

He laid there listening for the sound of old car engines, squeaky tin-can car doors open and close, something he’d gotten accustomed to hearing on their America trip. The man came in with a series of noises that disturbed the silent, peaceful scene.

The first thing Percival did was going to the bed where his darling thing lay spread out on the white sheets, and kissed him deeply.

He smelled of tobacco and diesel fuel to Newt, and something else he couldn’t quite place but was unique to this barren land.

“Good morning, love,” Percival bit his lip, “it’s half past noon.”

Newt blinked and cupped the man’s face in his hands, kissing back, letting the bedsheet slide off his raised shoulders, draped over the small of his back, his naked skin fragile against Percival’s black leather jacket. “Mm, where’ve you been?”

“Getting things,” Percival answered absent-mindedly, hands reaching past the fabric to get a feel of Newt’s arse, delighted in the kind of squirming reaction he elicited from the boy, before pulling away.

Newt stepped out of bed, barefoot, sheets wrapped around his hips in a bunch. On his way passing the settee, he took the bourbon and put it on the coffee table, tidying up out of habit.

Percival brought back plastic containers stacked in plastic bags, sitting on the table, waiting to be opened. They smelled like hot food and was making Newt hungry, but he made his way to the bathroom first anyway, where his lover stood washing his hands and face.

Newt quietly slipped in behind Percival, the linoleum floor always felt warm and strange under his feet, a marvelous muggle invention, he suppose. His lover looked up in the mirror as Newt tugged on his jacket from behind, hugging his waist, interested in what’s underneath.

Percival chuckled, turning around to let the boy undress him, all tiptoed and sweetly seductive. He leaned down to kiss Newt, whose soft hands clung to his open collar and soft lips burning with submission. Newt presented himself to the man with a shameless reciprocity that he could never see himself doing in his orthodox English home. The American West brought out wild, unrestrained desires in him. He tore the buttons on Percival’s shirt open with trembling hands, moaning eagerly as they exchanged spit, as if the past night’s indulgence wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him.

Newt’s arms wrapped themselves around Percival’s neck, the sheets slid off his naked body, falling into a heap at his feet. Percival was kissing him while undoing his own trousers, cock pressing hard against the fabric. The narrow, dimly-lit bathroom in a cheap motel in the middle of the desert was turning them both on, until the lovers panted with burning passion for each other.

Percival picked Newt off the floor, letting those pale, limber legs wrap around his hips, the boy’s delicate round heels pressed on his back, teasing him.

He turned around and lowered Newt onto the sink, watching Newt shudder from the cold, hard mirror surface that touched his bare back, where naked skin was burning soft.

Newt’s copper hair was growing longer now, falling into his eyes, hiding their deviance so the boy looked innocent and unintentionally seductive.

Percival felt his cock twitch when Newt reached for his crotch, he used to watch the boy work wonders on bandaging wounded creatures, and now those fingers were wrapped around his erection, working it skillfully, with an adorable urgency that screamed an invitation for Percival to fuck him senseless.

“Please, Percy…” the boy begged sweetly, spreading his legs wide open for the man, showing his pink, puffy opening, ripe from being used.

Percival pinched Newt’s chin and stuck two fingers into his full mouth.

Newt knew how to suck obscenely, swishing his lover’s fingers around with a hot, slick tongue, coating them in ample spit, while his eyes fixed on Percival. Coaxing him, hips slightly rolling upward in anticipation.

“Good boy, you know exactly what to do, don’t you?” praised Percival.

Newt nodded with his fingers in his mouth, happy to please, “mm hmm.”

Percival held open the base of his thigh in place with one hand, and eased both fingers into his hole, fucking the boy slowing with them. The palm of his hand was pressed against Newt’s inner thigh, and could feel every vibration underneath his thin, flushed skin as he gasped with pleasure.

Newt bit his lip and looked at Percival with misty eyes, his long lashes damp with tears from the lust.

Percival couldn’t play this teasing game anymore, he grabbed Newt by the legs and pressed himself upon his lover, who understood his intentions immediately and reached down to hold Percival’s cock, lining it up to the opening of his hole.

“What do we say now, whore?” Percival purred in Newt’s ear, getting the boy to blush.

“Please fuck me, sir, I need to be fucked.” Newt was taught what to say in these little games they play, he held Percival’s cock in both hands and was desperately trying to get the tip of it to enter him, humming in disapproval when Percival wouldn’t take action.

Percival rammed not him with a full thrust, stretching out Newt’s hole to take him entirely, basked in the amazing feeling of twitching hot flesh squeezing against his cock.

Newt almost screamed, panting in rapid, short breaths, a numbing pain rendering him immobile, desperately clinging to his man for relief.

He called Percival’s name repeatedly as the man fucked him on the bathroom sink, mirror shaking every time his back hit it as Percival thrusted in.

Newt felt his cavity being forced open and filled, a complete fullness he didn’t know he needed until he was being fucked, taking a cock inside him, his slick hole straining to please another man.

He didn’t always cry during sex, but they both knew it as indication of a really good fuck.

“Is this what you’ve been waiting for? You slutty girl, are you gonna come for daddy?” Percival whispered obscenities in Newt’s ear, like the Devil tempting him, a rude American scoundrel spoiling a young, virgin maiden.

Newt shrunk into Percival’s arms, still not used to this kind of lewd, improper talk, even though his legs were wide open, his cunt hungrily talking in the full length of a cock, he still blushed at being called a slut, a whore, a girl.

And his act of shyness nearly consumed Percival.

“What if I just kept fucking you until you came from it? Would you like that, you good little fucktoy?”

“S-stop…” Newt whimpered into the back of his hand, raised to hide his shameless moaning. His face was a mess of tears and sweat, cheeks wonderfully flushed, looking thoroughly delicious sitting on Percival’s cock and crying.

Percival can feel Newt’s tight hole clinching around his penis, the poor thing, he must be struggling for release.

He grabbed Newt’s hands off his neck, took him by the wrists and pinned his arms back up against the mirror, so that there was nothing holding them in place where Percival rutted into him.

Newt sobbed out in protest, body limp in Percival’s hold. He pushed against the man’s bind a few times unsuccessfully, squirming and panting, nearly sliding off the sink, his legs hung loose, desperately trying to find a spot on Percival’s back to wrap onto and failing, slipping off on either side.

It had taken Newt a few times of getting forcefully fucked to accept the feeling of handing over control of his own body to another man and offer himself up completely. As he did now. His whimpering and moaning broken up by each savage thrust where the man pulled almost fully out and rammed back in again.

His prostate was numb from the pleasure and aching from being over-stimulated during the past few night’s abuse.

“I can’t…Percy, please…” he gasped out, begging, an enchanting mix of pleasure and pain in his expression. he bit his lip to suppress his panting and catch his breath, but also because he knew how much this look of his can make Percival rile up, when he acted all weak and submissive, especially when he’d been crying.

“Fuck,” Percival grunted on top of him, suddenly picking up pace, his brute rhythm becoming a bit frantic, “you dirty little thing,” he was panting at this point too, headed for the rise that would let him bury himself deep into the boy and release his seed.

Newt felt it from his motion that Percival was nearing his edge, so he pleaded again, his voice soft and imploring.

Percival released Newt’s hands and grabbed onto his hips, yanked him closer with one rough motion, so that only the end of Newt’s arse barely rested on the sink. His arms were interlocked with Newt’s thighs, giving him more support to really hit the boy hard.

Newt’s sobbing became louder and more intense, he was working his own erection to get off, riding on the pleasure of being fucked brutally, utterly submitting himself to his lover.

It took Newt only a dozen or so strokes to climax, all shuddering and tear-filled, eyes glassy and a bit dazed. Milky ropes of come splashed on Percival’s bare chest as Newt’s hips jerked upwards, twitching uncontrollably.

Percival watched Newt’s face as he came, watched his consciousness fade away, lost in the intense high, and he fucked Newt through it, hitting his swollen prostate with every thrust, until Newt screamed again, his sweaty, narrow hips squirming to get away.

Newt was crying hard as Percival grunted and came into him with a few erratic thrusts. He made sure he buried his cum deep, if Newt wasn’t thorough with the cleaning afterwards, by the next time they fucked Percival would enjoy seeing it leak out of Newt’s hole.

The intense climax left Newt drained and barely consciously aware, too weak to resist, the last ounce of his strength he used to clasp onto Percival’s shirt sleeves. Broken, choked-up gasps escaped his mouth, and became barely-audible sobs again when he felt the man’s cum fill his throbbing cavity.

Percival slid out of the boy’s swollen, abused hole, panting a bit. He was still quick to catch Newt’s slack body sliding off the sink onto the bathroom floor.

There on the cramped bathroom tiles, he pinched Newt’s chin, tilting his head up and kissed him possessively, revisiting those neglected lips. Perhaps next time he should fuck the boy’s full mouth first, Newt looked deliciously vulnerable when forced to open his lips and take a cock down his throat.

The boy whimpered again in his arms, happily content this time, directing his lover towards the bath.

They showered together and ate a late Christmas lunch.

The food was from a diner in the nearest town, not the kind of holiday food Newt was expecting, but he was famished after a good fuck.

“Is this what you got me for Christmas?” Newt swallowed, meaning the lukewarm ham and potatoes.

“If only I knew you were so easily pleased before I stole you from your brother,” teased Percival.

Newt wore a bathrobe too large for his size, so he could be snug and comfortable curled up on the settee, chewing his food and being quietly thoughtful.

He thought about how this moment could last an eternity, and he wouldn’t actually mind.

He got new bruises on his wrists, red and blue on his pale pink skin after a hot shower. Newt ought to remember these marks, nothing could quite compare to eloping with an American and hiding out in the middle of the Western desert. Although elope was a strong word.

“Are you finished?” asked his lover.

Newt took the bourbon that was left forgotten on the table, swung it upward drinking one of the last mouthfuls, watching the amber liquid easily glide out of the glass bottle, feeling the burn in his throat.

“Yes?”

“Want to go for a drive?”

“Yes.”

He dressed himself like a muggle, as if his only audience wasn’t a wizard.

Tight, dark jeans showed off his long and slender legs, a plain, low-cut white T-shirt that was almost transparent clung to his body.

Percival wanted him to put on an irregular leather skirt, said it complimented his features. Newt looked at himself in the mirror, never fully understanding the fashion, but liking the way these clothes showed all the appropriate curves and revealed skin where he deemed sexy.

He put his feet up on the dashboard as Percival drove them out to the desert and looked out the window.

It wasn’t unlike staring out the window from the motel, the desert plain almost stayed the same. Unchanging, calm, like the sky.

Newt rested his head against the metal part of the car, eyes wondering up to the vast, open airspace.

He didn’t ask Percival where they were going; it didn’t matter. Even if they just drove on, leaving all their belongings back at that motel, he wouldn’t actually mind.

There were so little things to care about here. Just him, the sky, the desert, and Percival. It was Christmas.

They pulled over near a clearing, immediately in front of the car were tall, desert plants, a forest of them.

At first Newt didn’t understand what they were doing there, but he waited for Percival to explain.

Really, there didn’t need to be any explanation. He saw a large creature in the sky, flying in from the east, magnificent wings spanning 5 meters long, trailing clouds behind them, its tail fluttered in the wind.

“That’s a…” Newt gasped.

The bird flew past their heads with amazing speed, its screeching pierced the sky, and a wave of raindrops following it slammed down on the car.

“A thunderbird.” Percival smirked at him, rowed down both sides of the window, and climbed out into the rain.

Newt immediately did the same, dangerously hanging his upper body out the window, letting the cold, hard rain drench him, and together they watched the thunderbird roam among the clouds.

It was such a breathtaking sight that he forgot where he was. It was a vast, endless foreign land and all he could see was the bird stretching its wings in the rain, feathers glistening, calling out to its flock.

There was a flock.

Newt nearly screamed at the sight of about a dozen of them descending from the clouds, lightening split the sky with deafening thunder, and neither he nor Percival cared that they were almost losing their hearing or blinded by the flashes.

“It’s mating season!” Percival shouted at him through the downpour.

The first among the thunderbirds that they saw was performing a mating dance, that’s why they’ve brought the storm here to Arizona, their home.

Never in his life did Newt imagine one day he’d be able to see this with his own eyes. The thunderbirds mingled with each other, calling out for their mates below the dark rain clouds, where they would linger briefly before disappearing into the high skies again. They rarely came down low enough for humans to see them, only when they mated and hatched their young.

“This is amazing! Percy!” Newt shouted back finally, having regained a sense of reality around him, partly because he was completely soaked and the lack of sun had caused a steep drop in temperature.

Percival shifted his gaze away from the birds to check on Newt, seeing that the boy was shaking from the cold, and tried to signal for him to come back into the car.

Newt probably wouldn’t have listened, anyways. The auror quietly set off a spell using wandless magic to raise an invisible umbrella above the boy, and discreetly dried him off with another charm.

Percival sat behind the driver’s seat and watched the mating ritual from there, while Newt sat on the hood of the car. A magical screen over the exposed window made sure they could talk to each other without getting drenched in rain.

They could stay here, Newt thought, these magical creatures were so wild, free, as could they.

There was no way to tell the time.

As long as Percival was with him, he thought as he watched the thunderbirds intertwine their long necks and stretch out their bright crimson wings, he wouldn’t mind at all.

From inside the car, Percival’s voice sounded like home, “Merry Christmas, Artemis. Should we go look for some loose feathers in the desert?”


End file.
